You're holding it in, You're pouring a drink

Feeling groggy and less than sociable, all Spencer knew was that she was warm, comfy, and still in a blissful state of oblivion. Yet someone seemed bent on ruining all of that…

"Come one, Spencer, I think you'll want to see this…"

Oh right, she was with Toby. She was with Toby and she was about to be surprised. That thought made the idea of moving much more appealing. Peeling herself from the very homey spot her cheek had found against her boyfriend's chest, Spencer rubbed the sleep from her eyes to take in their dim surroundings.

"Hmm. It's a house…"

God, he loved the sound of her voice when she first woke up, rougher than usual and just plain sexy. "It is a house. But not just any house. Follow me?"

He stepped out of the truck and extended a hand to help her down. Taking it with a quizzical look, she allowed Toby to guide her up the sidewalk of the gray cottage when her senses kicked in with the obvious answer. The distant roar, the thick air, that distinctive fragrance…

Spencer froze in place and squeezed his hand, forcing him to turn around and face her. Her wide smile was contagious as she asked, "Toby? Are we at the beach?"

"Yeah," he responded with laughter, "if that is okay with you."

"Okay with me?" She countered, clearly astonished. "Of course it's okay with me! How did you do this? Who lives here?"

Her palpable enthusiasm relieved his last-minute doubts. "Well it belonged to my Mom's aunt, but she moved across the country a few years back. A relator rents it out during the summer months, but in the offseason it just sits empty. I know it isn't exactly beach weather yet, but—"

"—but nothing! I love it!" Her coffee-colored eyes grew serious as she examined him with more care. "I love you, Toby. You are so unbelievably amazing."

Cupping her face with his capable hands, Toby leaned forward and kissed her affectionately. "You deserve it, Spence. And I love you too. Now how bout I get our bags out of the truck and then I'll give you the grand tour?"

"Sure," She beamed, watching with contentment as he doubled back to retrieve their things. Her smile dimmed, though, when she remembered that her cell phone was one of those things. Telling lies has become routine for Spencer, but she knew that her most recent one had been pretty pathetic, even to her own ears. With Toby's A-team track record, he had surely caught on to her dishonest answer. I'm so freaking tired of being a hamster on this endless wheel.

With no other plausible choice, Spencer bounded down the walk after him. "Here, let me help!"

"I think I've got it," he tossed back to her with a smirk, already unloading the backseat.

"Hey, you've heard what I've said about being a post-modern feminist, right? When have I ever given you the impression that I'm afraid of breaking a nail?" Her act seemed to be working. He handed her a bag of groceries with a well-earned eye roll. Sucking in a breath of hesitation, Spencer discreetly reached for her duffel as Toby turned away.

"Spencer, seriously, you don't have to carry that. I don't mind."

"I know, but I don't mind either." She returned hurriedly.

He went stock still, his azure eyes boring holes into her. The silence stretched on to the moon and back. Toby spoke deliberately, as if it wounded him. "This is about your phone, isn't it?"

Fidgeting violently, Spencer kept her eyes to the ground as she mumbled a pitiful, "No."

Resentment edged its way into his words. "Wow, you used to at least be a convincing liar. Those skills of yours are really deteriorating."

Rage coursed through her veins, his words stirring her temper instantaneously. "Sorry that I'm not as good as the master. I'll work on it."

His defensive stance fell, guilt stabbing at his insides. He scuffed the toe of his shoe into the gravel then muttered in defeat, "Take whatever you want to take. I'll get the rest."

"Toby…"

"Just go, Spencer."

She felt lower than low. Why did she always let this happen? Trudging back up to the house with the repulsive duffel bag in hand, Spencer stopped short when she realized the door was locked. She chose to awkwardly shuffle the other bags around in her arms as she waited, not daring to utter a word of complaint. Toby finally lumbered up the steps behind her, fumbled with a set of keys for a moment, then strode past her and unlocked the creaky door. Continuing without even a sidelong glance in Spencer's direction, he forged ahead into the darkness. She trailed him down the hall, deciding that she once again had no other options.

Apparently she had been sticking a little too close. Toby stopped abruptly and she bumped right into him, bouncing backward on impact with an, "Oomph."

"Sorry," she said faintly, embarrassed at her appalling lack of coordination and unfortunate timing.

He looked back at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Seeming to shrug it off, he simply dipped his head forward and stated evenly, "This is the kitchen."

Toby stepped further into the room and began to unload his armful of bags. As she mirrored his actions, he reached past her and flipped on the overhead light. Blinking as her eyes adjusted, Spencer desperately searched for something to say. They couldn't go on this way. If only she knew where to start…

Just as she was about to attempt a line of inadequate small talk, a clanking noise interrupted her effort. From the corner of her eye, she watched Toby place two glasses onto the countertop. He disappeared wordlessly through another door, returning shortly clutching what appeared to be an expensive bottle of red wine. Filling each of the glasses to the top, he met her eyes in a nonverbal invitation.

Spencer angled her head to the side, unsure of him and her and drinking and the whole muddled mess.

Toby offered her the smallest of smiles as if sensing her tentativeness. "I think we could both stand to mellow out a little. We're not exactly off to the best beginning here."

Lifting his glass in a melancholy toast, his blue eyes seemed to beg for a truce. Sensing that more was at stake than one undisclosed text message, Spencer's fingers sought the stem of her glass. In a ceaseless parade of choosing battles, this one seemed inconsequential. But the lines of combat got so blurred when the one she was fighting for was also the one she found herself fighting against.

The clinking of glasses sounded in a show of agreement, but the ring of all that remained unsaid thundered in the not so distant background.